#not daily poetry anymore

[ezra-poetry]

Gold wraps around skin, flashing in the lights

Around our necks, wrists, fingers, waists

When the figures blur from lights and sound

It is as if we are all intertwined with gold

We adorn our bodies, cover ourselves in gold

We have no hair to braid, but pearls to wear upon our heads

We dress in scarlet, widen our eyes with paint

All together, dipped in gold

Our bodies become temples and we paint like michelangelo

Gold leaf and beautiful forms spread about

Silk veils our figures as we indulge with no intention of confession

Music fills the room, lyrics anything but hymns

Women wear men’s belongings, and men women’s robes

Upside down and inside out, all flipped around

We dance with no intention to see the Sunday daylight

Kiss the gold laid upon each other

Entangled in gold and each other, I think

“What will his parents say?”

[bogkeep]

they found a girl at the beach

her words all washed away

still feeling waves against her legs

and whale skin at her touch

foam in her hair, salt in her veins

so

they tell her about the sea

[wordsofnoconsequence]

The Loss of One's Wings

A flightful bird am I Dreaming of the near sky I tuck my wings and wonder When will I still soar?

My wings have borne my load As far they could go I rest here on the ground Awaiting strength returned

The currents of the wind I count as my dearest friends They carry me on their backs Wherever I want to land

The warmth of the sun above Never far from burning up The pain astonishes that I can feel Reminding me to live and heal

A flightless bird am I Wondering how to go on Without my love, the sky Where does one soar?

On dreams I cannot subside In memory I lose what was mine I lash at kindnesses given They seem markers I am riven

At last I lie, spent entirely I don't know what I'm fighting Then— my oldest friends find me To bring me back to my calling

There can still be currents ruffling my wings There can still be the sun's heat burning me Even in a changed body, I am here reaching For that sky luminous I will ever love.

It will not be the same, it will not be the same, But I will love it anyway. Even if I am on the ground, loving so much, It can be another way of soaring above.

[painttheworldinyourhead]

if i love you despite you leaving me,

do you love me, despite your leaving?

-lily

[jaina-chaosweaver-of-fate]

Tiredness motivates, Leaves ideas sounding great, But what I wouldn't give, To be able to remember, When I wake up again, What I wanted to write.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #126 - Poetry Precursor #2

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction poetry - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

Wait

Clinging to body-pillow relief,

Dreamt fantasies of another me,

Here to comfort my aching soul

Naked as the day birthed

And just as filthy, sweating,

Tossing, turning, spinning, burning,

She too, I see with horror,

Bears the unwanted gift

And hides in unspoken words

So I recoil, distant on the mattress,

Her dark eyes dissolving unto me,

Will it happen again, that the nightmare will not be over?

You out there, in the world which frightens me to wake;

You in the distant days, know what I say as I type:

In a week and a seventh, I shall be dead or headless.

No more.

[literary-motif]

Sunflower (NSFW)

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

Your first time, with Zaros.

Warnings: (brief) slut shaming

Despite the annoyance you initially felt at having Zaros around in your home, you eventually grew to like having company in the library. It was your favorite place in the entire palace. The high-reaching bookshelves filled to the brim with ancient knowledge and hidden gems gave it the soothing air of your personal paradise. 

You had always excelled at theoretics, partly because you spend the majority of your time leafing through these books, reading the wisdom penned on their pages. Perhaps it was a privilege of your upbringing that you were so free in exploring these treasures of great minds while the world around you was stuck in the daily grind, hurrying through the day with scarcely enough time to even look up at the sky and appreciate the stars. 

It was no wonder that the library was empty most of the time. Nobody besides you had the time to study its contents leisurely, but now that Zaros was here — adamant to catch up on the years he, too, had neglected the complicated world of theory to focus on the reality around him — you had found a companion who shared your passion for knowledge. 

In a mockery of your usually elaborate debates, he liked to bounce ideas off of you, asking your opinion on the subject he had just read about or simply anything that it had prompted him to think about — foreign policy, tradition and modernism, art movements, poetry, Serullian values, the social system, the noble families — which in turn, caused you to examine your beliefs more closely when you defended them against Zaros’ naturally differing ones.

The constant bickering and teasing did not annoy you as much anymore. It had been years since you had last seen Zaros, so it took time to get used to being constantly challenged once more. Still, there were instances where he got your blood boiling with just a casual comment or a particular tone of voice. 

He knew you well. That was the problem. 

He knew what to say to get you to scowl. He knew what got you to react in a certain way, and although you tried desperately not to lose yourself to the person he brought out in you — it had been years, after all. You had changed; you had grown despite him still looking at you as if barely a day had gone past — some things never changed, and Zaros latched onto those, riling you up until you became who he saw you to be.

Your teases had brought you closer together again. The preparation for the trials, the debates, the endless hours spent together in the library — it had all accumulated to a tension none of you could ignore anymore. It felt as if the air between you was laden, the tension rising and rising. You had read in one of the books on natural science that it discharged through a spark, and you felt it break through when you crashed your lips to his. 

Zaros reciprocated the kiss immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. You could feel his smirk, the fondness in his caresses as he ran his hands over your back and shoulders before cupping your face and deepening the kiss. It left you breathless. You melted under his touch as he cradled your head and kissed you senseless. 

Distantly, you realized the swaying steps you both were making. Zaros led you backward until your back hit the lavish wooden door to your chambers. He made no move to open it, instead raising his hand to the back of your head and kissing you against the door. You grasped his sherwani as he deepened the kiss, your trapped position giving him all the advantages as he took his time exploring your mouth. 

“Zaros,” you murmured when he pulled away, tilting your head upward to have better access to your neck, “not in the hallway. Someone could see.”

“Let them look,” he answered calmly, latching his lips to your neck and nibbling gently. 

You stifled a moan, your thought process momentarily lost as the feeling of Zaros’ lips on the tender flesh of your neck had you shivering. The reaction he could elicit from you made him smile against your skin. He loved watching you unravel. He could not wait to see you fall apart in his arms. 

Using the moment of brief respite, your hand shot out to grab the door handle, making both of you stubble into your chambers as the door at your back moved inward. 

You dragged Zaros inside fully, shutting the door again, this time trapping him against the wood with a passionate kiss. He hummed in surprise at the unexpected fire in it, wrapping his arms around your neck a moment later as you swiftly turned the key. You moved your hands to grasp his shoulders, pressing him against the surface, the breathy chuckle escaping him telling you how much he enjoyed it. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he breathed genuinely, gaze never wavering from yours as he brushed a hand through your hair. Your lips parted in a silent gasp. Reality was catching up with you. 

The vulnerability of his admission had you shifting on the spot, suddenly entirely out of your depth. You had never done this before, and having Zaros here, so close to you, anticipating something you did not entirely know how to give him, made you nervous. 

You averted your gaze, loosening his arms around your neck as you backed away slightly, fiddling with your garments as you anxiously wondered how to proceed. 

Zaros chuckled, your nerves drowning out the fondness of his laugh, your shifting eyes shying away from him, hiding the expression of patient adoration in his eyes. To you, he sounded mocking, condescendingly ridiculing you as he said, “I suppose you’ve not had much practice. Don’t worry, I will take care—” 

“I can’t afford to be the slut of Serulla now, can I?” you spat at him, angry and embarrassed at the fat that Zaros could see through you so effortlessly. 

Your deepest insecurities were laid bare for him because he knew you inside out, and you loathed that it was so easy for him to find the chips in your armor and leave you barren and defenseless. Lashing out was your default reaction, a defense mechanism that you had never managed to learn how to suppress, and you knew just as well where to strike to make him hurt, although he had more tact in hiding it. 

Zaros’ smile dropped, hurt shining in his eyes as his gaze searched yours, trying to understand what he had done wrong to turn your gentle affection back into burning acid.

“I have an image to uphold, after all. Unlike you, you Leech!” you finished, relishing Zaros’ flinch at the spiteful nickname. 

He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to collect himself before tightening his jaw and swallowing his bitter disappointment. He should have known. You would always look down on him, seeing him as nothing but a pawn in your game, a tool to use to further yourself. 

It hurt, having the person he loved most in the world — ironic since you despised him so — look at him as if he were worth less than the dust accumulating on your precious books.

Still, if this is what you wanted for your own gain, if this was what you needed — the reason you had kissed him in the hallway, the purpose behind drawing him into your chambers — if you wanted to take advantage of him being at your disposal, willing to give you pleasure as the slut you saw him as, he would indulge both you and himself just this once. 

He had imagined it often enough, making you moan and writhe in ways you never had as he applied all his superior experience to take you apart before piecing you back together again. In his fantasies, you had looked at him with a gaze drenched in love, and Zaros silently steeled his heart against the disdain he expected to see instead. 

Your eyes widened when you saw Zaros fall to his knees, looking up at you with a muted smirk. “If you wanted me on my knees, Earis,” he said, hands reaching up to caress your thighs, “all you had to do was ask.” You took a step back in shock. His hands fell back to his sides as he narrowed his eyes at you quizzically. 

“What are you doing?” you asked shakily, scoffing at him kneeling before you. “Get up, who do you think I am?” You reached out a hand. Zaros eyed it wearily for a moment before accepting it, allowing you to pull him to his feet again. 

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” he said quietly, staring at your joined hands. You sighed, interlocking your fingers as you followed his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, squeezing his hand, “I— I never meant to insult you, it just— I can’t stand it when you mock me— I can’t change my circumstances! What do you expect? Do you think I’ve ever found someone I trust enough to be completely vulnerable around? How could I?”

Zaros sighed, pulling you into a hug. He could feel your thundering heartbeat against his chest. “I wasn’t mocking you,” he said, “I was simply stating facts. I would never hold this against you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, burying your face in his neck and wrapping your free arm around him to pull him closer, “I— there’s nothing wrong with— uh—”

“Being a slut?” he asked, drawing back to raise an eyebrow at you. “Or would you prefer to call me a whore instead? How about a leech?” 

“Zaros—”

“I’ve been called worse, you know,” he said, brushing some wayward strands of hair out of your face, “but it still hurts when you say that to me.” 

You gaped at him, slowly understanding how deep Zaros’ affection for you ran. You opened your mouth, but the words were stuck in your throat as you gazed at him. Could it be—?

“I will only ask this once—” Zaros began, needing to know what game you were playing with him, needing to understand what it was you wanted from him.

Your choked muttering caught him off an instant later, “Do you love me?”

He inhaled sharply, your hand on his back keeping him from backing away. You looked at him intensely. Zaros bit his lip, avoiding your gaze. “Technically, you should answer my question first,” he said. You tilted his head up, forcing him to look into your eyes. They were pleading with him, and despite everything, he never had the power to deny you. “Yes,” he whispered, quietly enough that you could have imagined it. 

It only took a heartbeat for you to kiss him again, pouring all the desperation and yearning of your heart into it, willing him to understand that you felt the same, that you always had — that he was the only person in this kingdom you trusted enough to see all of you. 

He hesitated when you began pulling him towards the bed. The cozy blankets and puffed-up pillows adorning it looked inviting to sink into. “Are you sure?” he asked, remembering your previous nervousness. “We don’t have to. Not right now, not ever, if you don’t want to. There is no pressure.”

“Yes,” you answered, tugging him forward again. This time, he complied, following you to the bed until you stood at the edge of the mattress, Zaros in front of you. “I— uh,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks burning from embarrassment, “I don’t know how to— what to— um—”

He smiled at you, careful not to betray how cute you were right now, bashfully flickering your eyes to him before averting your gaze again. You were adorable. “There is no right way to do this,” he said, caressing your cheek to put you more at ease, “we can do what we want, how we want it. There are no guidelines. Anything you’re comfortable with, or what you would like to try, what you would like me to do to you” — he added, leaning closer to your ear to tease you some more — “we can do.”

“What would you like to do?” you asked instead, easing into the situation and fighting your nervousness by running your hands up and down his chest. Zaros sighed contently, reassuring you enough to free the top buttons of his sherwani.

“I’m open for anything,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a tender kiss against your palm, “but I suggest going slow. How about you get comfortable on the bed, hm? I’ll take care of you.”

You scrambled to obey, sinking into the soft mattress of your bed and looking up at Zaros, his chest now bare as he discarded his clothes to the side of the bed before joining you. He took his time, patiently adding your clothes to his on the floor, stripping you naked with kisses and caresses that had you melting under him, entirely forgetting about your anxieties as Zaros occupied every thought in your head.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, stopping his trail of kisses down your stomach to look up at you. The softness in his eyes made your heart stutter for a moment, and you realized that Zaros — dashing, humorous, intelligent, kind Zaros — was the gentlest lover anyone could ask for. “Earis? Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice enough to keep steady when he looked at you like that. 

He chuckled, pressing his lips to your lower stomach. “Use your words, my heart.” His hands brushed over your hips, angling your legs as he knelt between them. “Do you want to continue?” he asked, propping himself up to look down at you, his face only a few inches from yours. 

“Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you tangled your hand in his hair.

You felt his cock brush your entrance as he moved against you, making you gasp. “I’ll go slow,” he reassured you, waiting for your mutter of compliance before beginning to ease himself into you with languid thrusts. 

Your arms around him tightened at the stretch, the feeling of being filled a new sensation that had your head spinning with how good it felt. “Zaros—” you choked, sinking your nails into his back when he stopped moving, having entered you fully. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

“Relax,” he murmured, panting as you gripped his cock so tightly, he worried he would come undone in an instant. 

Honoring your wish, he started slowly thrusting again, patiently dragging his cock in and out of you, making sure you felt every movement, every minuscule throb, to the fullest. 

He wanted to build your pleasure up slowly, making sure you felt content and loved as he took his time to get you to the brink, only quickening his thrusts when you urged him on, telling him to go faster as you scratched his back, kissing him to muffle the moans tumbling from your lips. 

“I—” you gasped, holding onto him tighter as you clenched around him. 

The feeling had him hissing in pleasure, snapping his eyes up to look at you and memorize the blissed out expression on your face. A moan escaped him at the sight of your glazed-over eyes and heaving chest, clearly about to come. “Let go. I’ve got you,” he reassured you, feeling his own pleasure intensifying as your eyes rolled back, falling apart under him with a shudder. 

He came a moment later, kissing you sweetly as he prolonged your pleasure for as long as he could until you were shaking from overstimulation. 

“That was—” you began after Zaros laid down beside you with a breathless sigh of contentment. “Wow,” you finished lamely, feeling his arms snake around your waist before pulling you into his side. 

He chuckled, angling his head to place a kiss on your forehead. “Eloquently put,” he teased, kissing you to stifle the retaliation already at the tip of your tongue. “And I agree,” he continued before you had a chance to interrupt him, “I enjoyed this very much. Is there anything you need? I’d like to feel you close for a moment longer.”

You shifted your head to lay on his chest, looking up at Zaros with an expression of pure love and infinite appreciation. “Thank you,” you mumbled, giving him a sleepy smile. He felt his heartbeat picking up, cheeks reddening at your lovestruck expression. It was so much better than he could have ever dreamed of. 

[hisonlyreid-er]

Our kitchen

Summary: Despite the horrors you both see in your job, the comfort of your apartment is a bubble away from the real world.

Warnings: a slight mention to cases involving gore, mostly fluff

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Daily life was always a little different for you and Spencer. A normal couple may go on date night on Thursdays but for you, Thursdays are for catching serial killers in small towns. It may not be normal but it was just how it worked.

Having returned from a case yesterday, you and Spencer were allowed the day off today and decided to spend every moment of it attached at the hip. The day began with the two of you sat at the kitchen table. Spencer sat sipping his sugar with coffee while reading the paper and you sat nursing a mug of tea as you read the poetry book that has been waiting to be read for weeks. It was peaceful to just sit together, co-existing while doing your own thing.

The rest of the day was surrounded in a simple peace. You both went about your tasks, smiling as you crossed paths every once in a while. As you walked towards the kitchen to make lunch, you bumped into Spencer who was headed to the bathroom. His hand rested on your waist as you both looked at one another. " Fancy seeing you here." He smiled down at you. You released a little chuckle and stared at him with a goofy grin that you couldn't fight off anymore. "Such a coincidence Dr Reid." His eyes sparkled with love as he stared at your smile, never wanting this moment to end. He leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your lips while grinning before moving back. Just as you were about to move from his hold, Spencer gave a simple kiss to your forehead, his nose nestled amongst your hair. He took in a small breath through his nose and savoured the smell of coconut that was left from your shampoo. After standing there for a little while, you decided that it was time to carry on with your tasks and slipped from his grip. Walking down the hall, you were unaware of Spencers gaze following you as he stared with adoration adorning his soft feature.

The rest of the day flew by and now all that was left to do was cook dinner for the two of you. It was a task that you loved doing together. You both settled into your routine, Spencer began cooking the sauce while you boiled the water for the pasta. Everything as almost done when you let out a small shriek, hands gripped you from behind and pulled you back into Spencer body. He gave a slight chuckle and spun you round. You were so close that you could feel his warm breath fluttering against your cheek.

One of his hands left your body, reaching for something on the counter behind. All of a sudden music started playing from the speaker. The tempo was slow and the melody was soft. Spencer started swaying slightly with you still in his hold. He brought his face next to you ear, " May I have this dance?". You could feel your face flush a bright red at his words and all you could manage was a little nod. His hands became glued to your waist as your arms drapped over his shoulders, hands clasping behind his neck.

And you stayed like this for the duration of multiple songs, moving with one another to the music, staring into the eyes of the love of your life. In you entranced state, neither of you had noticed the pasta boiling over the side of the pot. You spotted in over Spencers shoulder and realised it had burnt. " Spence, the pasta.." was all you could manage before he turned his head and came to the same realisation. You released him and turned the gas off. Both of you looked at the ruined pasta and simultaneously burst into laughter. After deciding that it wasn't worth cooking anymore, Spencer suggested take out and you happily agreed.

You ended up on the couch, cuddled against his side with a box of pizza on his lap. Enjoying this moment was the priority because there was an understanding that you'd be called to deal with another monster soon enough, but for now this time was yours. For now, he was yours.

[kobrafangs]

i've been compiling a bunch of maze runner headcannons over the past few weeks, and i decided to share what i have so far :) fyi most of these are ivytrio centered heheh ^_^ enjoy!!!

- newt would be a big oatmeal fan. he'd have it every day and put cubed fruits and maple syrup in it too. thomas prefers a plain toast with butter and always teases newt for "being an old coot"

- minho is rlly extra and likes to make these fancy pancakes that frypan taught him how to make

- newt would be addicted peach tea. every morning he goes to the convenience store and he buys a bottle before class

- newt loves bracelets and he made a matching pair for him and thomas :] (minho, newt, & thomas also have separate matching bracelets!)

- newt does poetry & art. he carries around a little sketchbook in his satchel where he jots random thoughts and sketches. his muse is thomas <3

- newt likes musicals & claymation/stop motion movies (his fav is dear evan hanson or kubo and the 2 strings) & thomas likes action movies (his favs are starwars or the spiderman movies)

- their fav movie to watch together is fantastic mr fox or coraline

- thomas and minho are both on their school's track team

- thomas downloaded duolingo as a joke but now he feels guilty if he misses even a single day so he has a daily streak of 479

- thomas almost threw up crying watching end game (he forced newt to watch it with him as well)

- thomas prefers calling/face timing over texting and he will do everything in his power to call

- he's also like the least coherent texter of all time He always has like 90 spelling errors in a 4 word text

- newt doesnt like calls but is also the driest texter of all time

- minho sends those corny Good Morning! gifs with a sunset in the background and glitter and flowers on it

- minho studies hard, passes his classes

- newt barely studies, passes his classes (hes just smart)

- thomas doesnt study whatsoever, passes his classes somehow

- minho has legible, normal-but-a-bit-wonky handwriting

- newt has a slanted cursive scrawl

- everything thomas writes is illegible

- minho has the dirtiest mind known to mankind

- when frustrated, minho gets really sassy, thomas gets snappy and fidgety, and newt just goes silent

- minho would go on 5 am runs and post a picture of him on his instagram story all sweaty and smiling and put the dumbest caption of all time on it

- thomas cannot eat unless he puts on a show

- minho scrolls on his phone and texts people while he eats

- newt raw dogs every meal No stimulation whatsoever. pure silence

- thomas is extremely ticklish. like hellishly ticklish. he will literally scream like hes getting stabbed and kick his feet if he gets tickled

- ivy trio stays up until like 3 am playing horror games. thomas is the one who always screams bloody murder at literally any noise, minho keeps yelling at thomas to shut up, and newt is the only one actually playing the game. they also love roblox

- minho and thomas play dress to impress and they get way too invested in it

- newt & sonya braid daisies in each other's hair

- thomas likes having his hair played with

- thomas likes chewing gum, specifically bubble gum because hes actually 8 years old and likes to blow bubbles

- newt looooovessss libraries he'd literally live in one if he could

- minho unironically says "where my hug at" to thomas and newt

- newt is usually the little spoon but he knows thomas likes it too so sometimes he insists on being the big spoon just so thomas is happy

- sun thomas, moon newt, comet minho

- thomas isn't allowed to play fnaf anymore because the last time he did he got jump-scared so hard he threw his phone against the wall so hard it made a hole

- thomas's favourite pony is pinkie pie, newt's is applejack, minho's is rainbow dash

- newt has a fear of heights so thomas and minho always have to beg for him to go to an amusement park with them

- danny gonzalez thomas, drew gooden newt, kurtis conner minho

- minho always quotes random tiktok audios that nobody gets so at one point he just started making up really specific ones that catered to whatever situation they're in and then proceed to gaslight newt and thomas into believing they're real

- dog thomas, cat newt, otter minho

- THOMAS TMNT FAN RAAAHHH

- newtmas' favourite date was an aquarium date. thomas is absolutely captivated by all the fish and newt is so enamoured

- newt would probably like manga (he really enjoyed saiki k, chainsaw man, and sxf)... its his guilty pleasure

- on minho's aforementioned morning runs, he BLASTS pop music thru his headphones. because of this he's literally almost deaf. he always goes "huh" "what?" "say again?" whenever talking to anybody but it especially makes newt so frustrated

- also. minho would love charli xcx SORRY I DONT MAKE THE RULES!!!! he really likes pop music because it gets him pumped up and energized

- when thomas is focused, his speech gets really curt and he kinda shuts the world out because hes so tunnel visioned. as a result people think hes just really rude and a pain to work with

- only newt can work with him effortlessly because they don't need words to communicate. a slight nose scrunch? thomas knows he made a mistake. quirk of the brow? newt nods his head to show his approval. thomas taps his fingers against the table? newt can tell he's frustrated. their relationship can be tacit but understood by one another which is why they work so well with each other

- thomas LOOOOOVES karaoke he literally will not hesitate to belt his heart out

- when thomas blushes, he blushes HARD. he gets really red in the face and gets super embarrassed and newt likes to tease him for it

- when drunk, thomas gets really chatty, newt becomes clingy, and minho turns into a whole nother person he gets SO rowdy and loud and crazy. life of the party kinda guy

and thats all for now hehe !! ^_^ hope these were entertaining enough :p

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[ezra-poetry]

If I could, I would open your neck and lick out the blood

Metallic and sweet, it tastes how you look

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no towels to clean up the excess

We have no stitches to fix you up

We have only a brush of hair away from your neck

And my lips on your shoulder

If I could, I would wait for rope to burn

The skin on your wrists would turn from pale and smooth to red and raw

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no time to clean your wounds

We have no ointment to ease the pain

We have only hands on hands

And whispered suggestions

If I could, I would lick you head to toe

Know every sweet, salty, fresh, stale piece of your skin

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no curtains to keep out prying eyes

We have no time to bathe afterwards

We have only glances back and forth

And the licking of lips

If I could, I would run my fingers through your hair and pull tight

Head snaps back, eyes finally dazed behind glasses

If you could, you would want me to

But we have to space for your mind to go

We have no nightstand to rest your glasses

We have only gentle touches

And the whisper of your hands in your own hair

If I could, I would take you apart piece by piece

Let your mind fall blank before putting your body back together

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no room for us to play puzzles in

We have no shelf to keep my tools

We have only lingering stares

And you overwhelmed and tense

If I could, I would show you how to forget her

Kiss you better than she did, touch you better than ever

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no hallway for that conversation

We have no bed big enough for two

We have only long car rides

And endless phone calls

If I could, I would make you hold still

Skin on metal, fabric, rope, wood

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no scarves long enough

We have no keys slipped from an officer’s pocket

We have only legs on top of legs

And arms against a mattress

If I could, I would see if we like the taste

Fingers on mouths, mouths on more

If you could, you would want me to

But we have no tests to take

We have no soundproof walls to mask the sound

We have only me in my shower

And you in yours,

Tasting.

[kenananamin]

A Storyteller's Biggest Fan

Summary: Nanami loves listening to you speak. You fill a silence he has never been able to fill himself, so when he sees you getting into the A Court of Thorns and Roses series, he’s ready (and excited) for the rambling to start. fluff, nanami is a very patient man, obv major acotar series spoilers (a/n: i was in the car w/ my bestie for 3 hours after a movie and we talked about a bunch of stuff and that included me rambling about acotar lmao so here's what i think nanami would do in a rambling session)

Nanami's bookshelf was... uniform. He enjoys non-fiction, good biographies and autobiographies, and a whole lot of business themed books. There might be a few poetry, fiction, or self-help books scattered in the mix but the bookshelf as a whole looked the same.

Your bookshelf on the other hand was very very different. You enjoy similar things as Nanami but your bookshelf is packed with fiction, crime and mystery, historical fiction, graphic novels or comics, some horror, and very recently... fantasy. Fantasy was interesting but you never saw yourself digging too deep into any fantasy lore. You never really enjoyed stories where a powerful creature hundreds of years old is yearning to love a small and fragile human... at least until now. You accidentally fell into the world of fantasy when one of your favorite youtubers made a video on a a series you've seen everywhere but never picked up for no particular reason.

But now... your days were filled with the damn series. Nanami had noticed that you had been too quiet and on your phone much more than before. He wondered if he had done something wrong but you quickly shut down that idea and tell him you've been completely enthralled by the ACOTAR series. You had found a fan made audiobook and checked out the e-books through your community library which is why you were on your phone much more than before. You pull out your phone to show Nanami the book and give a small summary on the books. He laughs at what he can obviously tell is contained excitement but tells you that you shouldn't be so secretive or shy with finding a fantasy series you like.

The next day, Nanami stops at the bookstore to buy the series for you. He had to look up the series and check he wasn't missing anything and double checked with the cashier that those five books were the complete series. It was very different than anything Nanami had ever bought but he flipped through a few pages to get a taste of what you were reading.

The next week was filled with acotar content not only for you, but for Nanami as well. He would hear you listening to the fan-made audiobook while you cooked on your nights and would sit across from you as you cooked to listen to a few chapters with you. He liked seeing your eyes widen at the new revelations and your almost inaudible gasps at some trials that the main character was being put through. Nanami would ask a few questions throughout to try to stay in the loop but he'd mostly stay quiet and watch you instead.

It was part of your daily routine to go to the living room couch or your bed after some meals where you would either watch something or grab your own books to read over tea. Nanami grabs his book and looks over to your phone to check if you were on the first or second book. After confirming, he grabs the second book and returns to the living room. He sits on the couch, puts his book on one side and reaches for the mug of tea you're giving him. He gives you your book and extends one arm on the back of the couch so you can lean on him as you read. Reading was a quiet activity but he appreciated every second of silence that would let him listen to your calm breathing and slow sips of tea.

After a while of reading, Nanami puts his book down and takes off his glasses. His eyes were tired and didn't feel like reading anymore. But he didn't want to move, he wanted to stay in that position so he asks for you to read your book aloud. You turn in his arms and ask if he's sure, you knew fantasy wasn't his cup of tea and you didn't want to force him through anything. He nodded and smiled so you turn back around and start reading.

"Oh yeah she's illiterate, that's kind of important. But Rhys teaches her how to read and write, it's kinda hot but ok whatever," Nanami laughs as you interrupt reading the book to give explanations as to why certain things are happening. It's been over an hour since you started reading and Nanami's planning on letting you continue until you stop yourself.

———

Almost a week after Nanami bought the books, you were completely done with the series. You would try to keep your rambling short if Nanami asked about it but you wanted nothing more than to talk about this whole series. After finishing the books, Nanami noticed you would use the quiet reading time to look up theories and read through ungodly amounts of reddit threads.

"Don't you want to talk about it?" Nanami asks.

You turn in his arms, "Talk about what?"

He points to your phone with his head, "About the books. You can tell me about the books and the theories and well — everything."

You lightly laugh, "Well it's interesting and I really really like it but I know this isn't your cup of tea, Ken. I don't want to force you through anything fantasy."

Nanami puts his book down and grabs your phone from your hand to put on the bed. He sits up straight against the headboard and says, "You're not forcing me through anything. I want to listen to you talk about it. Now go, start."

You smile wide, knowing he's genuine in wanting to hear about it.

Oh god, I hope he doesn't regret it, you think before sitting next to him and starting.

———

"And they're mates! He had visions of her even while he was under the mountain and she was on mortal lands! And the visions got clear when she crossed to the spring court!" You fall back on the bed to kick your legs up in the air and continue, "And she always felt him! She didn't know what it was then but she would describe a shadow looking over her and that was him, it was RHYS!"

The more you talk about this series, the more invested Nanami is becoming. He had to put down his mug of tea because he kept shifting all over his side of the bed in anticipation. One thing about you, you can recall a whole story with all important details and tell it to anyone. Considering how important details seem to be in this story, Nanami is happy that you're the one telling this story.

It had been a while since you started your recap. You had snuggled up in bed after lunch and it was now pitch black outside. Nanami didn't mind, he would just pass the mug of tea if he thought your mouth was getting dry and let you continue.

"Tamlin fucking gave up Prythian to Hybern to get Feyre back. Literally sold out every single court and fae and human for Feyre. So now there's a bleeding Cassian and Az on the floor, Tamlin is standing there like it's a regular Tuesday and he didn't betray Prythian, Lucien — well hold on, I like Lucien, that's my boy," Nanami laughs but let's you continue, "but he's there too and the king tells the guards to bring them in. Guess who, GUESS WHO COMES IN?!"

Nanami sits up and tries to actually wonder who, "Amren? Tarquin? The girl from summer? Umm... the weird uncle from the court of nightmares?"

You shake your head as your answer, "No, babe, it— oh my god," You sit up on your knees and ask if he's ready, "babe, it's fucking Nesta and Elain." Nanami's jaw drops and his eyes move wondering if he's missed a detail. "The king fucking brought them to Hybern and he's going to throw them into the cauldron to turn them into FAE. KEN, THEY'RE GOING TO BE MADE INTO FAE, FEYRE'S SISTERS ARE GOING TO BE MADE FAE AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND LUCIEN FINDS OUT ELAIN IS HIS MATE AFTER SHE COMES OUT FROM BEING THROWN INTO THE CAULDRON. AND NESTA IS SO PISSED ABOUT IT ALL SO SHE TAKES SOMETHING FROM THE CAULDRON, SHE'S FAE BUT SHE'S DIFFERENT AND THIS COMES BACK UP LATER. AND CASS AND AZ ARE STILL BLEEDING ON THE FLOOR DURING ALL THIS."

Nanami is running his fingers through his hair, visibly stressed about the state of the Illyrians, the middle sister finding her mate in Lucien and the eldest sister becoming something different. You continue to tell him about the end of the second book and he also ends up on his knees in front of you. If anyone were to walk in, they would see you both kneeling in the middle of the bed, you shouting as you excitedly tell the story and your hands gathered between you, almost as if you were both praying to each other.

"So Rhys winnows his group back to night after Feyre's burst while Tamlin takes Feyre back to spring. But guess what?" You inch even closer to Nanami, "Feyre did not lose her mind in Hybern, she's still Feyre and she ends the book by saying that the high lord of spring has just brought THE HIGH LADY OF NIGHT TO HIS COURT, BABE — KEN, SHE'S A SPY! THE FIRST HIGH LADY OF PRYTHIAN EVER AND SHE'S COME TO WRECK SPRING!"

Nanami mirrors your excitement and stands up with you on the bed as you lightly jump. You're still rambling about Feyre and Rhys's wedding and secret ceremony to make her high lady but Nanami is more focused on the vein slowly popping out on your neck. You're yelling, you're excited, your hair is flopping around while you jump and your hands are moving left, right, up, down, to your face then his chest, you're excited. God, Nanami loves your excitement. He loves the sight and sound of your pure unfiltered excitement.

"So that's the second book, what about the third book?" Nanami holds your forearms as he asks.

You turn to look at the clock and notice it's way too late to start the third book. You know yourself and once you start on the third book, you will want to keep going. You grunt and throw yourself back on the bed. You're face down on the bed and kicking your feet when Nanami kneels back down and strokes the back of your head. You turn your head and say, "The second book is my favorite but god I can talk about the third one for a long time," you sit up to ask, "what if we start the third book tomorrow? I'll start early so I don't keep you for too long or too late like today."

Nanami smiles and lightly runs one finger over your lips, "We can start the third book whenever you want. I don't mind staying up, it's not like we have anything to do tomorrow."

He leans to give you a small peck and pulls away to sits cross-legged on the bed with a pillow on his lap, ready to listen some more. You smile and raise your eyebrows, silently asking if he's sure. He nods and laughs as he motions to continue with his hand.

You sit cross legged in front of him and grab another pillow to pull onto your lap. You take a moment to decide where to start the third book, "So Rhys barely told the inner court about their first ever high lady, and everyone in spring thinks that Rhys went into Feyre's mind and manipulated everything."

Nanami nods and smiles across from you. You begin to ramble on about the third book and there is literally nowhere he would rather be. He mentally makes plans to heat up the leftovers or maybe pop in a pizza in the oven if he hears your stomach growl.

My storyteller. I love my beautiful little storyteller, Nanami thinks as your rambling fills the apartment again.

———

(a/n: honestly y’all i love my bestie so much, i told her everything in that car from acotar to creating this account lmao, i love you girlypop, thank you for letting me ramble about an illiterate character and my favorite bat boy 🥹 also anyone please message me if you’ve read acotar, i want to talk about it and see what others think lol this story might not get any attention and thats fine, i just wanted to express my love for my two favorite things rn (nanami and acotar lol))

OH AND ABOUT THE FAN-MADE AUDIOBOOK— PLEASE check her out, her youtube acct is The Reading Hag Returns and she single-handedly got me obsessed with this series. Here’s the playlist for the first book 🤭 https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2oTNYiJ-4JDcEYd99snnkdjXa2kK9z6i&si=9CQDcNAL6RuXHBAA

[dapper-lil-arts]

Contextualizing whats going on with my blog atm

Ok so i'll explain a bit of the phenomenon of whatsup with my art. So first off, my twitter is dead. The algorythim has found me and blocked me, so i dont get more followers anymore, theres no room for growth, (and as we love to say in capitalism, endless growth is the only way) so since its a dead website, i don't have any incentive to draw things that would originaly help me grow there. which wasnt smth i would usualy do, ive always been more of an original content artist. Either way, this means i barely focus on posting there, and with good reason! it doesnt matter; i get a few commissions there, and thats it. And make no mistake, comms are my livelyhood, i pay my bills and groceries with them, so having fewer does suck. But the website is dead for me, so I have no incentive to post daily like i usualy would. (and you think imma post my poetry on twitter? no fucking way lmao) Meanwhile, here on tumblr, i had never grown or gone viral, i have got a couple thousand followers, thats it, if you think im famous i take that as a compliment, but trust me, im not exactly thriving, lmao. Theres never been a particular trend to follow to be famous on tumblr, and if there was, nah. idc. This is still my primarly posting website anyways. but here's the thing. There is nothin i can do to improve the situation and get more comms or famous or whatever. So if there's nothing i can do... Then i can do Whatever i want. This year is a blank page for me, and i've decided: I'm going to do whatever i want with my art. Jack of all trades. No more regrets, no more fears, no more hesitation. Poetry, fanfiction, erotic art, Personal ocs, titty ocs, fanart of MLP (like now), comics, memes, YTPs, maybe even video essays, whatever the hell i want. If nothing matters than all we do matters! I'm following my whims now. it's time for hedonism and hedonism only! Looking forward to see how yall get weirded out by all i do this year :3 Bye bye!

[filmnoirsbian]

Things read and watched in January

Essays & Articles:

Inside A Neo Nazi Homeschool Network with Thousands of Members

I Cut the 'Big Five' Tech Giants From My Life. It Was Hell.

Social Media, Social Factory

The Not So Hidden Israeli Politics of 'The Last of Us Part II'

The Okinawa Problem: The Forgotten History of Japanese Colonialism and Ryukyuan Indigeneity

How the Pentagon Leaned on Hollywood to Sell the War in Afghanistan

Get Out and the legacy of sundown suburbs in post-racial America

There is No Mary Problem in 'It's A Wonderful Life'

Why Do Rich People Love Quiet?

John Mulaney's Jokes About His Jewish Ex-Wife Suddenly Don't Seem So Funny Anymore

Kansas Research Shows Reintroducing Bison on Tallgrass Prairie Doubles Plant Diversity

"Alien" chestburster was inspired by writer's Crohn's disease

It's Frustratingly Rare to Find a Novel About a Woman That's Not About Love

The 50 Greatest Apocalypse Novels

Something in the water--life after mercury poisoning

Do You Have To Win A Nobel Prize To Be Translated?

Co-Author of Affluenza: "I'm Appalled by the Ethan Couch Decision"

Data Reveals Loneliest Cities in America

Groundbreaking effort launched to decode whale language

Ireland offers basic income for artists

Unhinged 'Transvestigators' Think They're the Only Cis People Left

Werner Herzog 'gives blessing' to pirates who want to download his films on Torrent sites

Music on Mars: If you thought space was silent, take a closer listen

The Singularity is Here

The Average Fourth Grader is A Better Poet Than You (and Me Too)

If Black English Isn't A Language, Then Tell Me, What Is?

Poetry:

Guts by Julia Armfield

the guessing game: a mother's love by Silas Denver Melvin

The Sea is Rising by Rakyah Assam

You Were You Are Elegy by Mary Jo Bang

Stop and Look, Alicante by Layla Benitez-James

ANWR by Sherwin Bitsui

Self-Portrait as Daily Sustenance by Ae Hee Lee

On Asking My Mother About Winter 1990 by Abhijit Sarmah

Finally Writing the Poem by Tarik Dobbs

Pound and Brodsky in Venice by Megan Fernandes

Books:

Engine Summer by John Crowley

No One Cares About Crazy People by Ron Powers

My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris

Hybrid Heart by Iori Kusano

Films:

[danieyells]

While ordinarily Jiro would do his homework within the boundaries of Mortkranken, they were having a slower day today. Yuri was having his daily bath, and so Jiro felt comfortable taking his books and papers out of Mortkranken to find somewhere else to work.

He had been on his way to the main building when he caught the sound. On a bench outside the main building, a biwa floated just a little over the seat, strings vibrating as they played themselves.

It wasn't the first time he'd encountered this anomalous instrument. Oddly, it felt like he knew about it before he'd ever come to Darkwick. The sound of it echoed in the fog of his memory, and he didn't see enough meaning in trying in vain to pursue it.

He found himself approaching, watching it play. He'd done this before too, recently. Perhaps not so recently as well. He couldn't remember, and saw no reason to try and reform the fragments.

He did, however, find the noise almost. . .comforting. Nostalgic, perhaps. He never really minded noise while he read--Yuri would play music, humming and singing along. Other students would work in the background and patients might chat in the waiting room. Whispers during class. The sound of his vitals being monitored during treatments. And something else. Background noise was always there.

It wasn't too windy of a day, which meant the weather likely wouldn't disturb the pages if Jiro did homework outside. And so, as he did, he sat down beside the biwa as it played, and began to balance his book and binder on his lap to get started.

The biwa slowed to a stop and repositioned itself upright. Jiro sighed.

"You don't have to stop playing." He announced, uncertain as to why. "I've told you before that it. . .doesn't. . .bother me. . . ."

He squinted at the books before him. When did he say that? The biwa never seemed to stop on his account. Why did he say that?

Why did it feel like muscle memory, a song and dance he'd practiced in his first year?

The biwa tilted forward slightly as Zenji wrapped his arms around it in a hug he couldn't give his brother. He smiled at him with wet eyes, tears running from them and down his face. Jiro didn't notice the taps of splashes of water on the wood of the instrument.

He said something that Jiro couldn't hear, but was, perhaps, he must have been!, used to hearing. But he couldn't hear it to recite the line that followed. But that was okay by Zenji.

Ghosts exist in a loop of their own emotions and memories. They play out again and again and act on them again and again until they wear down to nothing and the ghost is gone.

But for a moment, Jiro--the present Jiro--actively partook in that memory loop. For a moment it wasn't just a memory anymore, but a routine just as it had been before.

Zenji was gone. And he couldn't even be sure that Jiro remembered he was ever there.

But, as Jiro shrugged off his own odd statement and Zenji began to play for him again when he began his homework, Zenji at least knew that somewhere in his fuzzy memories, Jiro had never forgotten him.

But for everything about them that Jiro had forgotten, Zenji remembered. The feelings and memories were so much of what he had left. It was okay if he was the only one who had them. It was okay because they kept him here, where he could see that his brother was okay.

Perhaps, like with writing, like with poetry, like with playing a biwa, with practice he could share those memories with Jiro again, piece by piece. Share them until they were Jiro's own memories again.

[stardust-sunset]

What are your favorite ponyboy hcs

there are a few!

i love thinking darry is called darry because pony couldn’t say darrel lmfao-also his first full word being soda is kinda cute because i headcanon soda did NOT fw ponyboy as a kid (he was more mad ponyboy wasn’t an actual pony than the fact he had a brother) and he’d just be so mean to baby pony like pushing him down n shit 😭 but pony’s first word was def soda and soda will remind him of this DAILY.

“pony you remember when you first said my name”

*sigh*

pony is a chronic eye roller, he does not have a poker face. if someone says something stupid he’s literally rolling his eyes SO hard-he rolled his eyes at the teacher once because she was spewing some bullshit and he got detention lmfao-he rolls his eyes at darry a lot and it drives him nuts. he’d get told a lot as a kid ‘if you keep doing that your eyes are gonna get stuck that way’

pony had a speech impediment as a kid and as a result he tended to act out because he was frustrated he couldn’t talk and communicate to his parents about what he wanted. darry was the only one who could understand him and would calmly try to calm pony down and darry actually helped pony get rid of said impediment.

pony’s eyes are bigger than his stomach like he’ll order a truckload of food and be full after two bites. either that or pony has one hell of an appetite and darry.soda CANNOT keep up with it no matter how hard he tries

he has an anxious tummy :( when he’s really stressed his stomach will start gurgling and if it’s really bad he’ll get hiccups-it always happens when he’s taking a test and he gets so embarrassed because he just feels like everyone is looking at him-one time a teacher yelled at him for ‘being a distraction’ and he never wanted to go back to school after that

post book pony goes through a humongous growth spurt. he ends up being one or two inches taller than darry and he’s so smug about it and makes comments like ‘awwww who’s the little brother now?” and it pisses the gang off sometimes lmao

pony knows guitar because his mom taught him. he plays when he’s stressed. darry knows piano and they teach each other how to play their respective instruments. it’s a great time for both of them.

pony gets super into songwriting too-i head anon his mom taught him to sing at a young age and he just never stopped? he had to join choir in middle school for whatever reason and while he hated it at first he grew to love it a lot and he just feels free there. and when he’s stressed he tends to vent his emotions via poetry or drawing, so when he’s writing a poem he’ll put a beat to it sometimes. he’s played for his brothers and has made darry cry with a song dedicated to him (he would rather die than tell dallas though because he’s scared dallas won’t find him tuff anymore)

he’s big into greaser talk. the only time he won’t use “greaser slang” is when he’s trying to impress someone

pony is a very skilled artist. he’s drawn for johnny a lot.

he LOVES strawberries. his favourite dessert is strawberry shortcake but he only gets that for his birthday

(bumping off that) paul’s family owned a strawberry farm that pony used to sneak into to nab their berries. darry could talk pony out of trouble but was never happy about it. after paul and darry had their falling out pony snuck into their farm and had eaten every last berry on that farm and darry was so proud (and concerned and a bit mad because god forbid they pressed charges but pony reminds darry he could tell the cops about paul’s prank and blackmail him so that’s what they do lmao)

his eyes are more green than he’d care to admit. they’re still green grey but with an emphasis on green

i like interfaith curtis bros headcanons…so i feel like they were brought up with both jewish and christian traditions that darry tries to carry on

he knocked both his front teeth out at once by swinging from a tire swing at two bits house and slamming his face into a tree. he didn’t cry or anything though he just laughed it off. he swallowed the teeth though and was terrified the tooth fairy was gonna go into his stomach to get them out (based on true events)

he quits smoking because he can’t stand to think about how he may have indirectly killed johnny but also seeing how worried darry and soda were he couldn’t do that to them. it wasn’t a cold turkey process but it was successful

started smoking around thirteen years old and just never stopped til post book

he hates his hair ungreased but it’s the most beautiful fluffy mop of auburn hair ever

he’s not scared of spiders. hell straight up pick it up and put it outside. but he is afraid of moths and butterflies.

he’s a true carnivore. bro hates vegetables (darry had to get him vitamins instead)

let him ramble about his books. he will ramble for hours

him and cherry have a brother/sister relationship post book and she’ll go to his track meets sometimes along with darry and soda-they all get pretty close tbh

cherry takes pony to expensive cafés sometimes to help him study or just so the two can gossip

pony is a gossip KING like do not cross him

he comes up with really creative insults. half of them are stolen from johnny

he’s bisexual with a teeny preference for girls

he loves greek myths and compares darry to Hephaestus a lot

great expectations is a comfort book for him. if he’s sad he’ll read it in one sitting and enjoys it just as much as he did the first time he read it

he gets bad allergies in the spring and fall :(

him and darry work out together and bond over that just like they bonded over being in sports

he talks to himself when he reads

this wa s’more curtis bros than pony i’m sorry 😭 but hope these are good!